Diary of an Imperial Prince
by FiliaFlammae
Summary: Several short peeks into the mind of Julius . . . or should we say minds? Contains JuliusxIshtar, of course.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The afternoon spring sun brought warmth and life to Barhara on one particular day in Gran Year 771. Three children made their way through the palace gardens, traveling single file, though not at the same pace.

"Julius, wait up!" cried the girl in the middle of the line, struggling to keep pace with the child who ran in front of her. This girl looked to be about eight years old, and her long lavender-silver hair streamed behind her as she jogged through the grass.

The boy in front of her seemed to share not only her age but her approximate face shape, marking the two of them as relatives, though his hair was red instead of silver. He either did not hear her or pretended not to, as he kept up his hurried pace through the garden, apparently eager to reach their destination—or, alternatively, to keep away from her. The rustling of the grass as he ran meant that neither did he hear the thud and pained yelp of his relative when she tripped over the hem of her dress and fell to the ground.

The third child, clearly older than the others by two or three years, had been walking at a measured pace behind them. When she saw the girl stumble, however, her formerly passive face took on an expression of worry instead, and she hurried forward to tend to the younger girl. "Princess Julia! Are you all right?"

Julia took a few seconds to push herself to a seated position, and her expression looked somewhat pained, but she brushed herself off hurriedly. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said.

The older girl knelt when she reached Julia, brushing her own darker silver hair from her face when she came to a full stop. "Are you sure? Let me see."

Julia complied and held up her hands, revealing that the palms of her hands were bright, raw pink stained with green from skidding over the grass. "I guess it stings a little..."

The girl winced in empathy. "Ouch. Maybe we should head back inside." She looked up, fixing her eyes on the path of bent grass that the boy had left in his wake. "Prince Julius! _Prince Julius!_" she called, trying simultaneously to remain polite and get the boy to come back.

After several moments, the boy's distinctive red hair reappeared, and within seconds he jogged fully into view, looking worried. "What?"

"Your sister hurt herself," the older girl informed him. "If you hadn't run off like that. . . ."

"Please, Ishtar, I'm fine," Julia tried to say again.

"All right, all right, maybe you're fine, but your brother needs to apologize." Ishtar's gaze hardened as it turned back to Julius. "Isn't that right? Say you're sorry."

"Okay, okay!" Julius whined. "I'm sorry."

"Good." Ishtar rose to her feet, helping Julia stand as she did so. "You're sure you're all right?"

"Yes!" Julia said again, her normally sweet voice taking on an exasperated tinge. "I said I'm fine."

"Great!" Julius exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Do we still want to go over to the Climbing Tree, then?"

Julia faltered and looked again at her sore hands. "Uh. . . ."

Right then, the three children's interactions were interrupted by a distant voice. Upon listening closely, they realized that it was a young male voice, and it was calling Ishtar's name.

"Ah, that's my brother," Ishtar sighed. "Sounds like we have to go now."

"Oh, okay," Julia uttered.

"Hey, it's been fun, though!" Julius added. "Till next time, Ishtar!"

"Yes, see you later, Ishtar!" Julia echoed, joining her brother in waving goodbye to the older girl.

Ishtar's face broke into a rare smile, and she waved back at the twins as she walked away. "See you later!"

"Bye!"

"Bye!"

After several moments, Ishtar's figure disappeared behind the nearest hedge. The twins stood still, watching her until she vanished, when they began to walk slowly back to the palace.

It wasn't long before Julius broke the silence. "Hey, look, I really am sorry. I should've slowed down. . . ."

"It's fine, Julius," Julia insisted again, her tone demure. "I'm not bleeding or anything. . . ."

"But you still got hurt, so I can still say I'm sorry."

Julia stopped walking and looked her twin in the eyes. Her expression was one of soft surprise and gratitude. "Thanks."

Julius smiled. "You're welcome."

It wasn't much longer before they reached the palace. A woman with long wavy hair the same hue as Julia's stood in the doorway, and she smiled in relief when she saw the two children. "Mm, welcome back! Did you have fun with Miss Ishtar?"

"Mm-hm!"

"She's really nice."

"Mm, that's good. Are you done outside for the day?"

"I guess," Julius muttered, dropping his gaze to his feet.

Julia held up her hands by way of explanation. "I can't really climb the Climbing Tree with these."

The woman's face twisted into concern. "Aw, sweetie, does it hurt?" She knelt quickly and took Julia's wrists gently in her hands.

"Just a little, Mother," Julia answered honestly and politely.

The woman kissed her daughter's hands. "Poor thing. It's all right, you'll be all better before you know it."

Her mother's caring smile made Julia smile back. "Thank you, Mother."

The woman stood. "Well, your father and I were just about to have some tea. Why don't you two come and join us?"

"Sure!" Julia chimed, eagerly trotting forward to walk beside her mother.

Julius, on the other hand, merely stuck out his tongue. "Tea is gross."

The woman looked over her shoulder, her gaze twinkling playfully. "There are cakes too."

At this Julius perked up. "Cakes?"

Julia and her mother both giggled as they reached the door. "You'd better hurry!" the latter called.

Young Julius, of course, was loath to let his mother and sister start eating delicious tea-cakes without him. He jogged forward, eager to catch up with them.

"Hold on a moment, my dear prince."

Julius came to a rapid halt. He looked around quizzically, wondering where that strange voice had come from. As much as he liked cakes, he was also a fairly curious and easily distracted child.

"Over here, boy."

The voice spoke again, leading Julius to the source. He saw an elderly man standing in the corner of the room, swathed in a dark cloak. His face, wrinkled with age, was pinched and sinister.

"You're . . . that guy Father talks to sometimes!" Julius stated, recognizing the man after a moment of thought.

The man chuckled. "It seems you know of me after all, dear prince. I know of you as well, and I thought you might be interested in this." He pulled a thick book from the folds of his robes; it was bound in black leather, ornately decorated with a large polished stone set into the front cover. "Consider it . . . a gift, milord."


	2. Entry 1: Fire

Entry 1

I'm still not entirely sure what I mean to accomplish with this journal. I'm content enough with the state of things. I'm well taken care of. But considering that I felt so compelled to start it tonight, perhaps that is a harbinger of sleepless nights in the future. Better to have this option than not, in case that's what I really need to get a good night's sleep on occasion.

I keep staring at the fire in the hearth in my bedroom. There's something captivating about fire. The intense heat it gives off when you get too close. The sheer destructive power when it's not tamed. It's beautiful, even. Beautiful destruction. I like it. Reminds me of what I'll do with this world. Almost makes me want to sink my teeth into something, were I a more primal being. Just imagine the hot blood erupting around you like flames. . . .


	3. Entry 2: Isaac

Entry 2

Rumors have reached us from Isaac. Rumors that there have been no child hunts there whatsoever, to be exact. I would be greatly surprised if Dannan had the nerve to betray me, and his eldest is little more than a puppet, but I'm not so trusting of his younger two sons. I fear he lets those two get away with too much. He's too nice. They're too nice.

I've never been much for familial love. Allowing yourself to give so much to another, only to hurt and grieve when the other disappoints you or is lost? It's silly. It's downright foolish. I have never understood whatever mysterious, primal force drives people to do such things. I've never felt any such power.

But dear me, I do like it when they hurt. To see a family ripped apart . . . it's exciting. It's gut-wrenchingly satisfying.

In any case, I'll have to pay Dannan and his kin a visit one of these days. It just won't do to have them slipping up like this. They must know that I do not like being disappointed. Is satisfactory obedience from one's subjects too much for the Imperial Prince to ask?

Then again, if his sons still don't follow up . . . I don't suppose it would be too much of a loss to tear them down and put someone more reliable in place. I'd just barely rather not, since it'd be a hassle to deal with, but I certainly wouldn't mind watching those boys squirm.

Mm, yes. Squirm. Maybe I'll watch them squirm in my dreams tonight.

[The second paragraph above has a large X drawn through it. In the side margin of the page, the following is scribbled in a messier handwriting than that of the main entry:]

_Liar._


	4. Entry 3: Manster

Entry 3

Manfroy and I are staying with Ishtar in Manster tonight. Leidrick has informed us that the child hunts are going well. Good to know at least some people have their priorities straight.

Ishtar still seems confused about the hunts. I've tried to tell her that I'm just bending them into servants, which is much more useful than simply killing them. What use is an impressionable child if it's dead? Still, though, she continues to have this empathy for them. I can't understand it. It's the exact opposite of what I feel when I see others in pain. There's no good reason for her to take on that burden. She's not related to any of those children. Why trouble herself? Once again I can only fathom that some sort of unconscious emotional pull is at work, something that's dodged me, and for that I am all the more grateful.

The gardens here at Manster are quite nice. Ishtar and I took a walk through them earlier today. At first I only wanted to spend some time with her and look at the local flora—they do have some impressive native flowers, I'll say that much. Though of course they had more common ones as well. There was one particular flower that caught my eye: a rose, a large rose in full bloom. It wasn't red or white, no, it was this pale pink, and its petals looked so soft. . . .

_Ishtar, you're too good to me. I saw the rose and it was so soft and peaceful and I looked back up at you, and you just looked so caring, and you smiled. I hardly ever see you smile. And there was this feeling of peace, of serenity, of love. I didn't want it to end._

_What am I doing? Ishtar why_

All right, I'm back. Strange, how one can fall into such a different personality and back so quickly. What brought this on, I'm not sure, but I'd rather not get so lost again. I was not myself. Dare I say that in retrospect, it almost scares me?


	5. Entry 4: Sickness

Entry 4

I hate being sick. It reminds me how weak my body is. Why must I be so inhibited? I have things I could be doing, grand things. But no, I'm trapped in this frail husk. It's an outright shame.

Ishtar says I'm hot, but I feel chilled. I shouldn't even be out of bed right now. It makes it worse. Yet I want to write. It's been happening to me more often now: when I feel unease, I suddenly want to write. It gives me something to do while I lay out my thoughts.

Ishtar worries about me a lot. I certainly appreciate the attention, as anyone should, but why she cares I still have trouble grasping.

[The above sentence is lined out, and the following scribbling continues beneath it for a while:]

_No. I know why she cares. I feel it sometimes, the care. I care. I want her happy. I want her to be with me but be happy. Curse it all, I miss her right now. I don't want to say it but I miss her, I love her. I want to be like her and be nice to people and sometimes when I'm like this what I'm doing just gets to me and I feel all this weight on me, all the weights of those families and children I've hurt and I think WHAT AM I DOING who am I_

[This paragraph has been crossed out, in a separate gesture from the first deletion. Below it, the neat handwriting resumes:]

The fever is getting to me. I'll head back to bed before anything gets worse.


	6. Entry 5: Health

Entry 5

I'm glad to be well again. I leave Conote tomorrow morning. Traveling may be all well and good sometimes, but nothing is the same as relaxing in one's home. Ishtar will remain here with her father. I hope I won't miss her much. I have better things to do.

And that Rinehart fellow had better keep his hands to himself. . . .


	7. Entry 6: Worry

Entry 6

Hearsay of this uprising in Isaac is concerning, to say the least. I should have suspected that land to be the prime breeding ground for rebellion. I really should have visited Dannan and his brood while I had the chance.

It sounds like the group is heading through the desert in the hopes of reaching the Thracian Peninsula. At least a large group of Lopt members guard the desert, should the rebels happen to get in that deep without perishing in the hot sands. Even if they push through, what with most of the Freeges stationed in the Manster District, the rebels will have a tough time cutting any deeper, especially considering King Trabant and his men, who will guard Thracia with much more than their lives. With these measures in place, I have no cause for worry.

So why do I worry?


	8. Entry 7: Help

Entry 7

[This page is dotted with tear stains.]

_Why do I love you so, Ishtar?_

_Saving you to be useful, that makes sense, but when I saw you there, bleeding and in so much pain, I'm not sure what happened. All I was aware of was this fear, gnawing at me from the inside, this pain and fear. I don't want you to die not just because you're a good fighter. I don't want you to die because I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE._

_I realized today how much I care about you. More than anything else I don't want to see you hurt. I can see anybody else hurt, but not you. I don't know why. Is this what you feel for those children? Do you feel this pain when people hurt? Why don't I? No, I feel it now. I know what I've done and it crushes me I don't know what to think you must think I'm a monster what's wrong with me_

_I didn't deserve to be cuddled by you tonight. But how I clung to you like a lost child. . . . I wanted your love forever, I wanted it to help me, but some part of me knew I didn't deserve it. I had to pull myself away after you fell asleep. I didn't want to. You don't know how much I didn't want to. But I had to._

_I wish I were more like you. I wish I weren't doing any of this. I feel like I'm living the life of someone else and I don't know why_

_Help_

_If you find this, please. Help. Anyone._


	9. Entry 8: Weakness

Entry 8

With regards to the previous entry: I surprise myself sometimes. Who knew I could feel such pointless weakness?

Blume and Trabant have both disappointed me. In the case of the latter, I'm shocked that he chose not to fight with the Gungnir. Sometimes I wonder if he had a death wish. At least this way, his son Areone is still available to put up a strong resistance. I've heard good things about him.


	10. Entry 9: Irritation

Entry 9

I must say, I really am beginning to get irritated with these people. Areone fell just as his father did, even with the Gungnir in his arms.

Obviously I'm not letting the Gungnir go just like that. I've saved Areone as I saved Ishtar. His talent is too good to throw away, and I'm certain he will prove much more useful in a larger-scale assault, when his battalion isn't singled out. If things keep going the way they are, I may very well need to resort to these measures to crush this rebellion, so I will wait to deploy Areone until then.

I've received news that the rebels have settled in the Miletos District. I'll be sure to check on Ishtar and her mother within a few days to discuss the matter. The two of them have made excellent progress so far with the child hunts in the area. Hilda in particular has been one of my most valuable assets to date; she'll be quite a force for the rebels to reckon with.

. . . And should she fall as the others did, I'll merely recall her here as well. If push really does come to shove, it'll be smarter to put on the pressure all at once.


	11. Entry 10: Sister

Entry 10

Manfroy certainly thinks highly of himself. His latest hat trick, apparently, was abducting Julia from right under the rebels' noses.

Yes, my sister is alive. The sister I haven't seen for seven years, because my mother managed to pull a fast one on me before I could kill her. Apparently she was taken in by heaven knows who and has been traveling with the rebels on their sweep of the continent. I'm not sure whether I should be pleased that we've caught her or concerned that Manfroy wants to keep her alive. Perhaps he thinks she'll be useful to control my father. He's offered to try and repair her memories for me . . . and admittedly, it would be some fun to see her traumatic past restored, so I could twist a knife in that wound a bit. But after I've had my fun with her, I want her killed, and I will not be happy if he does not comply. I care not for our blood connection, nor for any additional leverage over my father; we can not leave any one of Heim's line alive.


	12. Entry 11: Father

Entry 11

What an event I happened to walk in on today! I went to check on Miletos Castle, and who should I run into but Ishtar, on her trip with the latest batch of children, talking to my father. My father! The idiot was supposed to be defending Chalphy Castle, but no, he just had to try and intercept Ishtar and coerce her into releasing the children. Needless to say, I put him in his place.

Sometimes it's hard to believe I'm that man's spawn. We're nothing alike. My body may be no older than fifteen years, but I feel like a grown, independent man. No, more than a man. I feel like a god. The world is mine to ravish.

Speaking of which, I've asked Ishtar to sortie with me this evening. I think it's high time we paid these rebels a personal visit.


	13. Entry 12: Real

Entry 12

[This page, like Entry 7, is tear-stained in places. In addition, a rather large ink splatter mars the bottom right corner of the sheet.]

_I don't know who I am._

_I don't know what's wrong with me._

_I don't know what I'm doing._

_How can you have such an effect on me, Ishtar? I appreciate you the way I appreciate my other most prized fighters, and I hold pride in keeping you closest of all of them, but when I see your blood on the ground like that suddenly I lose it and I'm not myself_

_And yet all I can think when I'm this upset is that THIS is the real me! Like in some sick, masochistic way I want to feel all this pain and remorse for my entire life and I want to hurt even though I don't actually WANT it but I feel I'm supposed to take it on and I hate myself_

_And I don't deserve you_

_I killed my own mother I'm a heartless MONSTER I want to DIE_


	14. Entry 13: Flicker

Entry 13

My father is dead.

Now let me assure you, I don't care. I don't care that my father is dead. Not on any emotional level, at least. I'm extremely annoyed that he caused us to lose Chalphy, but that's something different.

Still, though, when I received the news today, something strange came over me. A chilly feeling . . . but it flickered and was gone. I'll try to remember how it felt.

_It was cold, cold and clammy. This sinking feeling in my gut. I sent my own father to his death without batting an eye, just as I did to the others_

_The guilt. The guilt! That's what this feeling is, it's guilt. I can't understand myself, I don't know how I was able to do it, it's like I really am two people instead of one and it HURTS knowing what I've done like KILLING MY FATHER I'm sorry I'M SORRY_

_I think I'm breaking apart I'm breaking apart_

_I want to scream but I can't_

All right . . . I'm back.

I'm starting to question the worth of keeping these documents. I've told myself they'd be good insights into my mind, but almost every time I look back at them I merely confuse myself.

In other news, Manfroy's successfully recovered Julia's memories. I got to play with her for a while. Manfroy, though, insisted on keeping her alive after that, even though my father's gone. He says he has another use for her. He seems confident in his abilities, so I reluctantly gave him my permission, but if he fails and Julia runs free again, I swear I'll have that bastard's head on a stick.

[The following segment is written at an angle across the bottom portion of the page, clearly added later:]

_Julia . . . seeing you again, after so long, and all I did was jeer at you. . . ._

_My heart is just AUGH I don't know_

_I think . . . I want you to live. This me wants you to live. Please. Don't let me kill you again help me I can't_


	15. Entry 14: Crush

Entry 14

Ishtar has insisted on heading out to meet the rebels. I had hoped she would stay with me so that we could crush them more safely, but she insisted, so . . . well, I sent her a large escort, so what am I worried about?

_You know what you're worried about._

I wish I could turn off this other mind. It's really not very helpful or coherent.

Anyway, what with Ishtar heading out, I figured this would be a good time to try our double-front attack, so I've sent word to Areone to mobilize his squadron. And with Manfroy's Dark Warlords guarding the palace with me, I'm sure we'll crush the rebellion at long last.


	16. Entry 15: Shatter

Entry 15

So. Ishtar's gone.

No matter, Areone's still out and about, and Manfroy's doing . . . whatever he's doing with Julia. I'm not afraid.

. . . No, I should be honest. . . . I might actually be a little afraid.

I don't know what Manfroy's doing. I don't know how Areone's doing. For all I know they got to him and persuaded him to turn against us. Now that Ishtar has fallen the rebels are coming here

_Ishtar_

_Ishtar's gone. I can't say I feel nothing_

_No dammit it hurts I can't_

_You were all I had and they got to you and I WILL KILL THEM_

_They took my last hope from me and I'll kill them! And if they somehow get here and beat me then maybe I'll have fucking deserved it! Either way I lose or win or maybe I lose and win at the same time I don't know but GROA#$%?!_

[This last line turns into an extremely violent-looking scribble that has marred much of the preceding paragraph and torn the paper in a few places.]


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

The great roar seemed to shake the very earth beneath their feet. Any member of the army would have sworn that they saw the figure of a huge, black, ghostly dragon, ascending slowly from the body of the dying prince and dissolving into the air piece by piece. Before the spectacle was even over, though, the lavender-haired girl suddenly sprinted forward, heading toward the prince's body.

"Julia!" the blue-haired youth that had been standing beside her yelled protectively, and he quickly ran after her, but he did not catch up before she reached the prince's body and knelt there.

The eyes of Imperial Prince Julius opened just the tiniest bit when Julia placed her hand on his shoulder. His head rocked a little to the side, apparently to set his gaze on her face. His mouth moved weakly and tiredly, making no noise, but Julia could tell that he tried to say, "Juli-a . . . thank . . . y- . . ." before his lips moved no more and his eyes shut forever.


End file.
